After Dark
by twilightfan12356
Summary: A girl with a dark past gets a helping hand and a new family. Involves flashbacks. Switches from past to present. Rated M for violence/sexual. I plan on making this multi-chaptered if you guys like it. Please read and review.


**Hey guys, so I'm starting a new story. I really hope you like it, and if you do, remember to review it. Feedback is motivation! Thanks xoxo**

**Summary: A girl with a dark past finds help and a new family as she fights to stay alive. Involves some flashbacks. Please read and review. Rated M.**

I sit down cautiously with my back facing the window. I take a quick glance around and see nothing but a large book shelf filled to the brim with books and what appeared to be some type of statues placed in each corner. Weird. I feel my heart jump a beat but I relax when I realize it is just Dr. Merits coming back with our drinks. He sits a Pepsi on the table in front of me before taking his usual seat behind his desk.

I've been coming for over a week now and I still haven't said a word. Maybe I'm not one to judge but who keeps gargoyles in their office? Pretty weird, if you ask me. Regardless I can't ignore the fact that he does seem like he genuinely cares. He is a tall, muscular man with perfect hair that has a few streaks of grey peaking out. He has this air of confidence about him, like he knows he's beautiful and yet he still manages to convey his sympathy. His eyes have this deep sadness to them even when he smiles at me. Makes me feel like maybe he understands more than I want him to. Maybe he does.

I want someone to listen to me. To believe me. But not like this. Not some stranger that's just here to plant lies in my head. He can't help me. No one can.

"Still not talking?" he asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. He gives me a comforting smile as if waiting here for me to speak is the highlight of his day.

"Do you like chess, Samantha?" He changes his tactics. I used to spend hours and hours playing chess with my mother. I am terrible at it.

I cross the room and sit on the other side of his desk without saying a word. He nods his head and pulls out a board from somewhere behind his desk. We play for a while, me losing hopelessly before he tries to talk again. I knew it was coming. I'd hoped we could play in quiet. Guess not.

"Look I know you probably don't want to talk to me or anyone really. It probably sucks having to talk to some old guy with grey hair about your problems but I'm here to help you," he says the last part with a grin. I turn my head slightly away and let my hair cover my face to hide my smile. He sees anyway and his smile gets wider.

"So if you're willing to work with me, I promise I won't push you on anything," he says,

bending his head down to meet my gaze. I start to nod my head before answering instead,

"Yeah. Okay"

"Okay. How about this: I'll ask you a question and you can ask me a question in return so we can get to know each other a little bit?" he says giving me a toothy smile. I nod my consent.

"So what's the story behind your hair?" He was referring to the fact that my hair was a deep red color. I'd dyed it when I was 13, going through the normal teenage stage of rebellion.

I shrug. "I like color." He nods his head. I blink at him.

Oh right, it was my turn. I look around his office for a moment.

"What's with the statues?"

"My mother's. She was a bit of a fanatic about them and when she passed away a few years ago, I kept them." His eyes get a little crease in between them.

"Oh. I'm sorry for asking."

"It's alright", his eyes soften.

"I guess it's my turn then…do you play soccer? I noticed your shirt…" he says with a grin.

My shirt which said 'Got Balls?' on it with a soccer ball on the back. I flush a little.

"I played soccer for a while but that was years ago," I answer, nervously fiddling with my hair.

"Were you any good?" Just the best front lineman there ever was.

"I like to think so."

"So what happened then?"

"What?" I know exactly what he is asking but I'm stalling.

"Why'd you quit?" he has those eyes that make you want to tell him things.

"Umm…my dad didn't think it was a very useful skill. So he made me quit", I quickly shut my mouth. This was the type of thing I'd been trying to avoid.

He gives me a look I can't quite place before he nods his head. The air is heavy in the room and I'm not sure why.

"Y'know that was more than one question?" I say with a little smile. I hadn't expected to feel so comfortable around him.

He chuckles a little. "I suppose I did. I guess you get two more."

I look around some more and notice a few things I hadn't noticed before. Like a photograph of a man who is clearly Dr. Merits and a very pretty woman with golden hair and a bright smile, sitting on top of his bookshelf.

"Is that your wife?" I ask. I hoped she wasn't dead or anything. No need to put my foot in my mouth again.

"Yes. We've been married for 4 years now", he says, pride coloring his voice. He gets a twinkle in his eye when he talks about his wife. Makes you feel like maybe not all relationships are failures. Not all of them are like my parents.

"Can I call you Sam?" No one has called me Sam since….

"Yeah", I say, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat.

I guess the games are over. He flips through his chart for a while which I imagine has a bunch of personal stuff about me in it. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns for a bit before looking back up at me.

"So who's Hank?" He probably already knows but I guess part of his job is to get me to talk about it.

"My father."

"Biological?"

"No. Step-father."

"Do you have a good relationship with Hank?"

"….No."

"Why not?"

"…No." I know I've started to sound like I'm going mad, but I need it to stop. I need the questions to stop. What's happened to the light-hearted questions from just a moment ago?

"Did Hank hurt you?" his eyes searching mine.

"Please. Stop."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," putting his hands up in surrender. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Okay, Sam. I realize Hank is a sore spot so we won't talk about him", he says giving me a soft smile to make sure I am still with him. I nod my head at him before looking down again. A moment passes with him flipping through my chart and me playing with the ends of my hair.

"Your mother?..." he lets the question linger.

"Dead. She died from cancer 6 months ago", I feel my breath hitch a little. My mother's death is one of those things that I just don't talk about. Ever. It's too much. He gives me another one of those sad smiles that makes me think he understands more than anyone else.

"Okay, Sam, one more question. Our time's almost up…"

"Who's Derek Shepard?" My head snaps up and we stare each other down for a moment.

I hear the words come out of my mouth but I don't feel my mouth moving.

"Derek Shepard saved my life."


End file.
